"I hate flowers," she said, her mouth curling toward the ground.
What kind of a woman hates flowers?
"I love nature. I'm in love with nature. But the thought of a flower as a token of affection makes me sad."
"Oh," slipped out of my mouth, barely audible. "Well what would make you happy then?"
After a moments pause with her eyes on my shoes, she looked up and directly into my pupils she said: "A minute."
After another pause, she opened her mouth again; "Just a minute."
And so I squatted down right there in the hill, the carpet of never ending grass beneath us swaying lazily in rhythm with the invisible wind. I sat. She bent down and followed my lead.
And I gave her a minute. Many minutes that managed to blend into each other without my notice and before I knew it, it was dusk. The Sun peered out over the vast horizon, letting us both know that the time we had spent sitting silently had lapsed and appeared to us as no time time at all. It was just the grass, the sky, the wind, the Sun and us.

She gazed out at the setting Sun through drooping eyelids and dripping lashes. She picked up a hand and wiped away the salt water, then looked to me. I turned my eyes from the horizon to her, barely able to twitch a half-hearted smile into permanently solemn expression. The wind blew, the trees bent with it as her hair danced behind her, gracing her head like a mother's loving hands.
"I wish things were different," I choked out. "I wish we could have a life."
She groped her eyes off of me and planted them firmly in the Earth.
"I know," she spoke. "I do too."
Then she looked up and back over the valley and hills toward the almighty setting light. My eyes followed hers and we stood there for what seemed like hours before I gained the strength to flick a finger out. I pushed it into her arm and then wrapped my hand around her wiry wrist. She was kind enough to offer a flickering smile; up and then gone like eraser shavings being blown off of a desk. I appreciated her attempt at gratitude, I knew how hard it was to even think about smiling in a time like this.
"I always wanted to run," she mumbled. "I thought that if, somehow, I ran long enough, far enough..."
Her voice was reduced with each word before she became inaudible.
"That if I could just get away. I could escape. Forever. And then everything would be right. Everything would make sense."
I looked down again and then lifted my arm, settling it over her narrow shoulders and cupping her shoulder with my palm.
"Things don't work like that," I say. "It's incredibly ******* disheartening, I know. But that's life."
She sighs gently, releasing air from her lungs through her nose in a miniscule huff.
"You just have to hold on," she says. And I smile. She's right. She's speaking the truth, as cold and hard as it is, but nonetheless the truth. She's admitted what has to be done. And that's enough to induce an almost enthusiastic look on my face.
"You're right. You're right," I blink. "That's just life."

Across the street
I go with you
through city of my dream

Sun's beaming shine
I drank some wine
And lose the sense of mind

But I have no fear with you
And I see no one but you
And I can see the love that comes from you

The cannibal is thirsty
for a flesh martini
Dabs of salt here and there
On tongue and ocean groin
The ******* is hungry
To be the tender olive
Eaten very slowly
Lick the ****** pleasures
Of each other's
knife
kiss
Maternal affections
pouring open by God's rage
They are
shelter
Ignition
To each other's
demons
wonderfully delicious
as frosting or
whipped
cream
They are rare fruit, indeed
What are the odds of them finding each other?
Just goes to show, my lonely lovers
There's someone for everyone
You too
Will find
Your soul mate
Someday
just as the blood
Will eventually
Drip
from
the cannibal's
smiling
mouth
Oh my love,
you are my
yummy chicken bone
dipped in
your
sauce
"Ahhhhh...." he says
"This must be love."